I can’t see her—I’ve been strong, staying away all this time, and I can’t ruin my efforts now. And I don’t need Belial tracking me down to make good on his threats. However, being so near to her just might give me the fix I need, which goes to prove just how pathetic I’ve become.

It’s not until I’m breathing frozen Georgia air and see the sedan waiting for me outside the airport that I allow myself to think on my purpose for being here. I half expect exhilaration to hit me at the prospect of being physical with a girl again, but it never comes. I don’t want this. I ruined my first-ever streak of goodness in October, and I’ve been an angry shell of myself ever since.

I feel ill the entire way to Father’s house. Over and over I stretch my hands open and close them into tight fists.

Do I dare refuse him about a niece of Marissa’s again? What if it’s another child? How far will I go to stay alive?

When I enter the house I find Father and Marissa having tea. They both glance at me, and then continue talking business. In a chair beside them sits a tall girl with her hair pulled back. She looks around sixteen or seventeen, thankfully no younger. Father and Marissa are speaking in French, which I understand, but the girl likely doesn’t. I don’t listen because I don’t care to hear whatever they’re discussing. I stand in the doorway of the posh sitting area, grinding my teeth as they murmur. I stare at an ugly, abstract painting on the wall. I can feel the girl watching me.

When they finish, Marissa turns to me in her chair. “Kaidan.” I force myself to look at her. “This is my newest niece, Iva. I am hoping you can keep her company today.”

Marissa reaches over and pets the girl’s head. Iva smiles at her shyly, and then at me, which makes me grind my teeth even harder. The girl has no idea what she’s in for. I force a nod and my mouth goes dry as I search for a way out of this. I devise a quick plan, though it’s weak.

“I’ve heard there’s a rave in the city this evening,” I say, my heart thundering. “Thought I’d try to kill two birds with one stone. May I take Iva out with me this afternoon, and then drop her back at Marissa’s on my way to the party?”

Shite. I didn’t think this through. They’re going to ask me where I’ll take her. Lookout Point, perhaps? Father turns to Marissa and she shrugs, flinging her waist-long black hair from her shoulder and clicking her long fingernails together. Blast, that sound. I steel myself against a shudder.

“Makes no difference to me,” Marissa says, reaching out to stroke the girl’s cheek, “as long as the job is done and she makes it home to me safely. But keep her out of public.” Marissa eyes me and says in French, “Teach her all the ways to pleasure a man. No need to keep this one innocent.”

“Oui.” I nod tightly and try not to look relieved.

“You may take the BMW.” Father tosses me the keys, smiling devilishly at Marissa, his mind otherwise occupied.

I look to Iva and jerk my head toward the door. The girl is quick to follow.

Aside from the young girl last year, I’ve never left a niece untrained before. This is the first time I’ve even considered it. I start the car and catch sight of the date on the dash. Valentine’s Day. How apropos.

I drive in silence, tapping the wheel in nervous thought as the girl sits there with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her threadbare sweater is no match for the winter air. I crank the heat up.

When we’re well out of the five-mile zone I take a deep breath and huff it back out.

“You speak English?”

“Yes,” she replies in a heavily accented voice.

“Do you know why you’ve been brought to America?”

“Oh, yes. My brother tells me. I am to be married to handsome, wealthy man who will care for me.”

I swallow. I usually have my guard up with the nieces. I keep myself numb and don’t allow any thoughts in. But it’s been too long, and my mind’s been infected. I cannot ignore this girl’s words. They seep into me.

Iva asks timidly, “Are you to be my husband?”

I shoot a glance in her direction and find her scanning my face with hope. I look back at the road and stare straight ahead as I speak the words that will shatter that hope into a million cutting shards. For once, I will tell one of Marissa’s nieces the full truth without trying to sugarcoat it, downplay it, or glorify it in any way.

“Iva . . . I’m very sorry, but there is no husband. Your brother lied to you. He sold you. You’re a slave now, and Madame Marissa is your master.”

“I . . . What do you say?” Her voice shakes. I’m willing to bet she came from an extremely poor family. If her brother was the head of her household, her parents most likely died from illnesses because they didn’t have the money for treatment. I’d seen this before, with too many nieces. Her brother probably squandered their small pittance of funds on drugs or alcohol. She’s begun to tremble next to me.

I drive us to a state park, away from prying eyes and ears, surrounded by trees.

Iva’s chest heaves with quick, frantic breaths. This is not uncommon. I need to calm her. I stop the car and turn in my seat.

“Please, sir,” she says. “I don’t understand!”

I’m filled with dread as I explain Iva’s new world to her. I tell her what she will be expected to do, and what will happen if she doesn’t. I make it clear that if she utters a single word of what I’ve told her, I will be killed.